Tag Archives: weekend at wilderhope manor

Ah, um, sorry. Got carried away there. And yes, my singing is truly terrifying. Let’s just say I won’t be queuing up to audition for the X-Factor any time soon.

I write quite a bit of paranormal erotica and erotic romance, but not all of it is scary. Much of it is just sexy, and sometimes bloody. But I have been known to dip into the scary side of erotica, sometimes bordering on horror. I’ve even given myself chills when writing some of this stuff. Here are some examples (click on the titles or book covers to find out more):

That decided, the girls walked in. Stephanie, the more logical of the two, led the way through the narrow corridors in search of the elusive centre. She felt confident at first, but as the twists and turns continued, she felt less so. That and the fact that she’d been right about the creep factor. It was a clear but not particularly bright day, resulting in very little natural light penetrating the hedges that made up the maze. It was navigable but incredibly gloomy, and Stephanie sensed that Jenny was staying as close behind her as possible without treading on the backs of her shoes. Honestly, she didn’t blame her. Even Stephanie was starting to feel a little spooked. The silence wasn’t helping. From their sheltered position, they could see glimpses of the sky, but they couldn’t hear anything other than the sound of their own footsteps and breathing.

Stephanie picked up the pace, albeit subtly. She didn’t want to worry Jenny, but she wasn’t quite sure where they were and she was feeling really quite nervous. Despite the silence and the fact they hadn’t seen another soul since they’d left the house, Stephanie suddenly had the oddest feeling that they weren’t alone. It was a silly notion, because the walls of the maze were so thick that you couldn’t see through them, so it wasn’t like anyone could be secretly spying on them. But Stephanie simply could not shake her apprehension. She desperately wanted to get out of the maze, but saw no way of doing it quickly. Even turning back wouldn’t guarantee a swift exit because they wouldn’t remember each twist and turn they’d taken. They could just end up stuck in here even longer.

Suddenly, Jenny’s Alice in Wonderland comment didn’t seem so stupid after all. Refusing to let Jenny sense her fear, she looked steadfastly in front of her and carried on walking. Then she heard the crack of a twig which sounded like it came from up ahead. Unfortunately, Jenny heard it too.

“Wh – what was that?!” Jenny said, clutching onto the back of Stephanie’s coat.

Emily worked in peace for a while longer . . . until she felt a draught on the back of her neck. Carefully placing down the book she was retouching, she fidgeted in her chair and moved her head from side to side and up and down, as if to erase the odd feeling. She forgot it almost instantly, until a few seconds later, it came again, as though someone was blowing on the back of her neck. Emily shivered, both at the sensation and at the thought that had entered her mind. Goosebumps crept over her entire body, and the third movement of air made her jump up out of the chair and spin around to face the source.

There was nothing there. No one. Emily rolled her eyes. Why on earth was she getting like this? She’d worked in dozens of rooms, perfectly alone, and not once had she creeped herself out. Why now? When her gaze fell on the window, she rolled her eyes again. Of course. Old houses like Westbury more often than not had panes of glass that didn’t fit into their frames properly. The draught was coming from the window. Emily crossed the room to the window, drew the curtains—she’d open them again before she left, and Mrs. Thompson would be none the wiser—and sat back down again. Shaking her head at her own stupidity, Emily continued working on the book she’d just abandoned, quickly becoming absorbed in her task once more.

A noise from over by the ladder startled her, making her jump and almost jab herself in the eye with the end of the brush she was using. Turning, she saw the photograph she’d righted earlier once more lying down. She’d obviously not fixed the stand properly. After downing her tools, Emily stomped across the room, cross at the seemingly endless interruptions, and grabbed the photograph. She checked it to make sure it held firm, wagging a finger at the man in the image.

“Just you behave. I’ve got too much work to do to put up with your shenanigans if you don’t mind.”

The path forked, the left turning being the one which would lead me down by the water. I took it. The closer I drew to the mere, the more another part of me wished I wasn’t alone. The quiet was uncanny, as was the absence of any wildlife. You’d normally expect to find midges, dragonflies, and the birds that ate them around most bodies of water. There was nothing, which was strange enough. Stranger still was that despite its exposed location and the slight breeze in the air, the pool’s surface remained undisturbed. I wish I could have said the same for my state of mind.

I was still a short distance from the mere, lingering at the end of the path. I looked behind me at the setting sun, which would soon disappear behind the rocky mountain range to the west. I glanced back at the pool. My lengthened shadow stretched from my feet to the edge of the water, and beyond. From where I was standing, it looked like the shadow of my head had been chopped off, or swallowed into the murky depths of the mere.

Suddenly, I decided I really did not want to be there when there was no sun at all. I resolved to look around, take my photos, write my notes and be on my way as quickly as possible. My rational mind knew nothing was going to happen, that the recent disappearances had been nothing but elaborate hoaxes. Despite that fact, I still desperately wanted to get out of there.

A bench on the left-hand side of the path made me wonder why anyone would want to sit there, gazing upon this lifeless, creepy body of water. I walked over to the seat and read the writing carved into its surface.

In the summer at mermaid pool

As the grass grows all around

I think I sometimes hear her sing

For the mermaid’s home I’ve found

If I’d been creeped out before, that was nothing. It was past nine on a Wednesday evening and the sun was only just setting. That definitely qualified as summer in my book. And Blake Mere had grass growing all around, right up to the very edge of the water, in fact. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up.

Just then the breeze picked up, whistling past my ears, and I fancied I could hear singing. I’d had to stand with my back to the pond in order to read the writing on the bench, and as my brain registered the eerie sound I couldn’t bring myself to turn around. I was frozen in place. I looked up and saw that the sun was sliding closer and closer to the rocky horizon. I didn’t have much time.

As most of you know, up until recently I’d only had short stories published. And short stories, due to their very nature mean that you don’t always have much word count to elaborate on settings for the action. A very short story, for example, could just take place in a bedroom (though when I think about how many of my characters actually get it on in a bedroom, the ratio is pretty low!), which could be anyone’s bedroom, anywhere.

Despite this, I do have some real settings in my books. They may not always be named, or places that people will recognise, but they’re there. So I’ve picked out a few of my published pieces and dished the dirt on location, location, location. Click the book titles if you want to know more about them, or even better, buy them! 😉

This is my first novella, so naturally I had much more word count to play with, and therefore more room to elaborate on locations. These include an airport, a luxury hotel, the Portuguese countryside, a castle, a restaurant, and one of the lead characters’ houses.

The airport is based on a real airport, but it’s not named or described in such great detail that you’d know it was that particular airport—it could be any UK airport with a bookshop and a cafe. Which is all of them, I suspect. However, I had a very real picture of it in my mind as I was writing.

The Portuguese countryside is something I’ve explored a little myself, so although the setting isn’t exactly real, and again, there are no place names involved, it is drawn from my own experiences.

The restaurant, again not named, is a real place, but I’ve never been inside! So I could be all wrong in my descriptions, but you’ll never know because I haven’t said where it is! *evil laugh*

The luxury hotel, castle and character’s house are all completely fabricated.

Overall, I’ve used a mixture of real and fabricated settings, but the story is much more focussed on the characters and plot anyway, so the descriptions aren’t that in depth. But I have to say, I did find it easier to write a longer piece with a mental picture of the places in my mind, knowing I could add in relevant information here and there.

This is a short story with a lot of real setting wound in. It’s not related to the above novella, it’s just coincidence that action in both takes place in the Portuguese countryside. The places in this story, however, are completely drawn from memory. Admittedly, it’s around six years since I went on a jeep safari in Portugal, so my memory is probably quite hazy, but there are no names included, so it doesn’t matter. Unfortunately, the totally hot tour guide and scorching sex are completely made up.

The setting in this paranormal erotic romance is a country house. It’s not quite a real country house, but more an amalgamation of several I’ve been to. The majority of the action takes place in a library, and it’s a very real library in a very real house—so all that was drawn from memory of a recent visit, and I made no changes to the setting, except for some embellishments that were necessary for the story. It’s likely people would recognise this place if they visited it, having read my story.

As above, this lesbian paranormal erotica is set in an amalgamation of country houses, though the library is the same (what can I say, the actual library is just so stunning it’s hard not to write about it!). The house name is real (though that wasn’t intentional, I only realised after it was published-oops!), the description of the outside is real, and the action that takes place in the garden is pulled from several beautiful British gardens I’ve been to. The image of the house is on the book cover, so people would probably recognise it—and indeed, it’s totally worth a visit and is one of my favourite mansions.

All of this book is set in real places—with embellishments where necessary. The action takes place in Paris, and includes a branch of Starbucks, the Pigalle area, a bar in Montmartre and the Sacre-Coeur. The Sacre-Coeur itself is where a lot of the story takes place, and where the description is richest—everything here is totally based on what I remember from my visits, with one small exception. One of the main characters—a vampire—lives in the basilica in a room she’s furnished. I know there are rooms up there, but they’re not accessible to the public and I have no idea if living in one would be possible, but I’m allowed a little artistic licence, right? If you’ve been to this area of Paris, you would recognise all of the settings, except perhaps the bar, which isn’t described and the location is vague enough that you probably wouldn’t be able to pinpoint it.

And finally, my story, Down by the Pool, which is in this anthology, is set in a real place and based on a real legend. A mermaid legend about a pond high up on the Peak District moors. Totally bonkers, of course, since the Peak District is completely landlocked, so how would a mermaid get there? Anyway, Blake Mere—or the Mermaid Pool, as it’s also known—is 100% real, as is the area surrounding it, which is also described. If you visited, you’d definitely recognise it, and would hopefully get the hairs standing up on the back of your neck, as I did when I was writing the story. It’s a pretty eerie, strange place, and you’d probably be slightly creeped out, even if you didn’t read the story. But if you’re ever in the area, you should definitely check out the story first and find out more about the legend of the mermaid and her victims…

I think the longer I’ve been writing, the more I’ve been inspired by locations and that’s why increasingly I’m writing about real places. Some pieces I have out on submission, or are awaiting publication have settings including; Harrods, Borough Market, The Monument, Southwark Cathedral, Waterstones Piccadilly, The Ritz and Soho, all in London (not all the same story though!). I’ve also penned in locations including; Hunstanton, a seaside town in Norfolk, UK, and the Spanish Steps and surrounding area in Rome. I also have more stories planned with very real locations—so I’m definitely making the most of my travel bug!

I’ll stop waffling now, anyway. But I’d love to know if anyone reads anything of mine and visits the relevant area, or feels they can tell somewhere is a real place based on my descriptions. I’m intrigued to know the answers!

Hello everyone! I’m happy to announce that I am the newest member of the Dirty Birdies blog. I’ve been a fan of the site for some time now and have guest posted before, so now I’m a fully fledged member of the ‘pervs of a feather’ I am delighted.

Sooo… I guess I’d better introduce myself properly, hadn’t I? I’m Lucy Felthouse, and I’m from Derbyshire in the UK. I’ve been writing as long as I remember, and penning smutty stuff since my first year at University (someone dared me. True story). I had my first story published in Scarlet Magazine in 2006, swiftly followed by a short story in a print anthology from Xcite Books. Since then I’ve continued writing naughty words, mainly short stories and have added Cleis Press, Noble Romance, Ravenous Romance, Summerhouse Publishing and Sweetmeats Press to my publishing credits (see em all here), as well as many magazines and websites. I’ve also branched out into writing longer pieces and aim to have finished a novel by the time I’m 30 (luckily I have three and a half years to go).

There’s lots more to me than writing, naturally, but I don’t want to bore you to tears so I’d better tell you the important stuff, huh? I’m a perv (hence my invite to blog here) and I like hot guys. So expect my posts going forward to range from hot guys, to hot stories, to writing stuff and all kinds of randomness in between.

Okay, enough about me. Happy Halloween! It’s not such a big deal over here in the UK than it is in the US. In fact, I’m not doing anything at all for it, other than hiding indoors and hoping my car doesn’t get egged. Oh, and celebrating my two new releases. Which brings me nicely onto…

Pimpage!

I’ve been told that because it’s Monday, I’m allowed to pimp my stuff. Which is useful, because I’ve had two short stories/novellas (classification varies by publisher) released this month which fit perfectly into today’s post because they’re both spooky, and feature ghosts. One of them even takes place over a Halloween weekend – how cool is that?

So, without further ado, I would like to introduce my two smutty new stories:

Weekend at Wilderhope Manor

When Stephanie and Jenny go to a Murder Mystery Halloween weekend at Wilderhope Manor, they’re expecting fun and games. But following creaky floorboards, spooky noises and an alarming encounter in the Manor’s grounds, the girls begin to wonder if there’s more to Wilderhope Manor than meets the eye. As they find frequent comfort in one another’s arms – and their bed – will the girls discover what’s causing the bumps in the night, or will they run scared?

Westbury Hall is a stately home with a fascinating past, and when book conservator Emily Stone starts uncovering it, she’s startled by what she finds . . . .

Emily arrives at Westbury Hall with a job to do. She’s to clean and conserve all of the books in their impressive library, preserving them for future generations. Not long into her stay at the house, she bumps into the night guard, George. She’d expected an old, balding guy with a comb over, so the hunky chap she actually meets is a very pleasant surprise. The introductions complete, George leaves Emily in peace to get on with her job. But when a falling photograph sets off a chain reaction of ghostly events, Emily and George are thrown together in order to find out who—or what—is causing them. Their investigation uncovers a tragic past, a lost love, and a stunning secret.